Maria Rachel Hooley
Copyright ©2009 Maria Rachel Hooley
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
Sometimes nothing is as it seems. That's what I remember thinking last October--six months that might as well have been a lifetime ago. That was before I lost my best friend. The night everything changed, Devin and I sprawled across a round concrete picnic table long enough for me, but his feet dangled over the edge. Although I lay with arms propped behind my head, Devin rested on his side, an elbow supporting him.
The small town of West Martin was barely a dot on the Illinois map—a dot trying hard to fashion a bed-and-breakfast image instead of a boring lakefront community with two high schools, ten churches, and a handful of fast food restaurants, none of which offered much entertainment. As such, most teens like us, hung out in Lucy Park. Tonight, however, a cold front had lowered the temperature to 25 degrees, and most people had stayed inside. Still, we preferred the cold and liked the way the lights barely illuminated the darkness.